If I Die Young
by Lady Mayflower
Summary: A dawn funeral brings South Park together to mourn the loss of one of the South Park four. How will the boys hold together now that he's gone?


_Hello, South Park! Mayflower here...though I'm not really sure why. This is what I get for listening to sappy pop-country while trying to get something accomplished - drabble-shots. :P Well, I think it turned out pretty nice, so why not? Let's throw it up and see how you guys like it. :)_

**LAWYERBOT SAYS: "...Okay, come on, why am I defending this?"  
><strong>South Park, both the city and all of its inhabitants (c) Trey Parker, Matt Stone, and Comedy Central  
>The featured song, "If I Die Young" (c) The Band Perry<p>

All characters and events in this fanfiction, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.  
>The following story contains coarse language, and due to its content, should not be read by anybody.<em><br>_

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><p><em>If I die young, bury me in satin<em>

_Lay me down on a bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_

He always was a romantic at heart. Sent sailing at dawn? That's exactly how he'd want to go. Despite how badly he was mangled, there was still a...well, almost-angelic look to him, dolled up in his best for his last good-byes. All of South Park was there to pay the little tribute they could before they sent the young causality to his final resting place - their favorite hang out, Stark's Pond.

Alright, maybe not ALL of South Park was there. For one thing, only one member of his beloved quartet was present - Stanley Marsh, who was the very first allowed to approach the makeshift casket. It wasn't much of a coffin at all - it was actually an old canoe filled with flowers from every household in South Park. Stan thought it was oddly fitting - he was never one for luxuries. Trying to keep the tears from his eyes, the noirette added to the collection of flowers with a small bouquet of white roses and a hand-written poem - exactly the way he wanted to be sent off, knowing he was loved. Knowing he'd be missed.

And god-dammit, was he going to be missed.

_Lord, make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_

_She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors_

_Life ain't always what you think it ought to be_

_Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby_

The parents weren't present, either. They were practically in denial about the whole thing. They hadn't even helped with the arrangements - most of that was left to Stan. The passing of their child really caused it to sink in how little they really knew about their own son. They had their own plans for the funeral, but when Stan played them the song and mentioned Stark's Pond...

The mother, usually stoic, broke down. He WOULD like that better, wouldn't he? His father bit his tongue at the realization that Stan's idea would be cheaper. They went with the idea, of course, but the idea of having the send-off at dawn just wasn't happening. They did have lives that continued on, son or not, and no ceremony at the pond was going to pull them away from that.

_And I'll be wearing white when I come into Your kingdom_

_I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger_

Back at the teary congregation, Stan couldn't help but frown as the speeches and eulogies were given. "He's in a better place, he's in a better place," that's all they repeated, over and over again. After all of the times he said there is no God? The noirette wanted to hope the best for his friend, but a kingdom of angels seemed just a little far away.

_I've never known the lovin' of a man_

_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand_

_There's a boy here in town who says he'll love me forever_

_Who would have thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life?_

Another who couldn't show his face was a certain Eric Cartman, who feigned that he was "far too upset and racked with grief" to get up at four in the morning to watch the least-lovable member of his foursome get sank to the bottom of Stark's Pond. So the ever-obliging Liane allowed her baby boy to sleep in while she went to accompany Sharon to the service.

But oddly enough, Cartman couldn't sleep. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he WAS actually upset now that it was starting to set in. For as long as anyone could remember, they had been four strong - granted, other friends came and gone, but in spirit, they were the South Park four, and nothing would ever take that away. Now they were short one.

It was almost scary to think about. They always promised they'd stick together forever, no matter how much they fought or swore to kill each other, and here they were. Forever didn't last very long, did it?

With a tired groan, the portly brunette got up and went to his closet, just as the sun started to peek up over the mountains. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't let this moment pass him by. He owned that boy as much as he owned anything else in this run-down, redneck town, dead or not. He wasn't going to rest until Eric Cartman said he could.

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar_

_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_

_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'_

_Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'_

The last missing attendee made his appearance later in the day, when the ceremony had long passed and the sun was just about set on Stark's Pond. All that was left (apart from the scattered beer cans that followed whenever there was a get-together in South Park, regardless of the purpose) was a few flower petals lingering on the surface of the murky water - the boat and the boy were nowhere to be found.

Of course, the last member of the infamous quartet didn't appear late because he wanted to. He had spent most of the day scouring his home, looking for an old box that he had tucked away for safekeeping. Apparantly, they were hidden in such a safe place, it took a few more hours than expected to remember where they were hiding.

It was a small collection of writings - most of them professional poetry books, but a few were a series of reports, stories, and poems, all written by the deceased. He really was quite the author, but he always hid them from the world. And by that, he actually hid them in the school dumpster after class. "It's just stupid class stuff," he would always dismiss. But if you took the time to read it or pay attention in class, they were actually quite interesting. And now that he was gone, they were definitely going to make a comeback.

_The ballad of a dove_

_Go with peace and love_

_Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket_

_Save them for a time when you're really gonna need them_

Kenny brushed off the cover of the book as he sat down at the edge of Stark's Pond. Tennyson poems - some of Kyle's favorites. The young Jew had lent him the book last year for an assignment, along with the few others he had dug up in his search of the McCormick house - he had never gotten around to giving them back. The box would be heading back to Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski, but this one book in particular was going straight to where it belonged - back with Kyle.

The young blonde wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket as he watched the worn book float out to the center of the pond. Kenny McCormick didn't cry, but this situation was just a little bit different. They both died in the accident that day, but nobody else in South Park would tell you that. Kenny woke up in his room a few hours later - Kyle never woke up. Now one was sitting at the pond without a scratch, and the other was a mangled mess in a boat of flowers.

_The sharp knife of a short life_

_Well, I've had just enough time_

"Kenny?"

"What're you doin' out here, po' boy?"

"Just giving Kyle a book I owe him."

The three boys sat in silence, Kenny hiding under his trademark hood and held in place between Stan and Cartman, who sat down to join him. Nobody knew what to say, they all just sat and enjoyed the peace, watching the little, worn book eventually take on water and sink below the surface, down into the arms of their best friend.

"He's probably glad to have that book back."

"Yeah."

"Well, least he got that prissy, girly, gay Jew funeral he kept talkin' 'bout."

"Cartman!"

"Wha~t?"

"You're an asshole, Cartman."

"Shut up, Jew! ...Sorry, force'a habit."

"...So what do we do now?"

"...We could go play football."

"Stan, you ALWAYS wanna play football."

"Would you rather I hide in my room and be a Goth kid?"

"NO."

"A'right, come on, le's go - we c'n play at mah place, we c'n pro'lly get mah mom ta make us cake or sumthin'."

"Do you ever stop thinking about food, you fat-ass?"

Kenny had to laugh as Stan and Cartman got up and started off, their argument fading into the echoing silence of Stark's Pond. "This is exactly what you wanted, right, Kyle?" he asked. "Us reminding Cartman he's a fat-ass."

But to be fair, that probably IS what Kyle wanted. After all, Stan needed a new super-best friend, right? Maybe two regular-best friends could fill that hole, and maybe their newly-turned trio would be tighter than ever.

Yeah, that was exactly what Kyle would've wanted.

_So put on your best, boys and I'll wear my pearls..._

_What I never did is done..._

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><p><em>Surprised? I hope so. :) Thanks for reading, guys!<em>

_**_§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §_**_


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